


the moon is beautiful

by tzitzimeme



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Child Abuse, Everything is Messed Up, JUST, Other, Suicide, literally a self indulgent oc fanfic sorry, literally horrible, my friends wanted to see this, ye who search the ffxiv tag... u probably dont want to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28132329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzitzimeme/pseuds/tzitzimeme
Summary: A story about family.(Written in 2018, set mid-Stormblood. Heed tags.)
Kudos: 13





	the moon is beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: for ye who come here from my twitter and read my genshin fics, this is worse than anything i've written for genshin. you have been warned.
> 
> another note of important lore so that the naming of characters will make sense: in Keeper of the Moon Miqo'tes, of which several characters are, the males will take their mother's name with just a short suffix tacked on in order of their birth. so Kaillan is the mother --> first son's name is Kaillan'a. there are also Naming Shenanigans going on that are Symbolic, as several characters share the same name. for clarity:
> 
>  **Tzitzimime Atenco** = Tiffney Lallamonde (real name) = the Elezen Warrior of Light, Bard/Dark Knight;  
>  **Breve Garamond** = the Miqo'te Warrior of Light, adopted sister of Tzitzi she kinda just dragged in from the woods at 14, White Mage;  
>  **Momoztli Toxtle** = Momo = Kaillan Toxtle = the main character of this piece, stole her own aunt's name after k-wording her, Tzitzi's god aunt, acted as big sis to Claribel & Louys while growing up;  
>  **Claribel Lallamonde** = Clari = Tzitzi's mom; Momo is... has... interesting feelings for her...  
>  **Louys Lallamonde** = Lulu = Tzitzi's dad; just a Good Dude  
>  **Kaillan'a** = Kai/Kaikai = Momo's son; there is ANOTHER CHARACTER called Kaillan'a who is Momo's cousin (Momo's aunt's son) who is... uh... man.  
>  **Kaillan** = also Momo's aunt, who Momo steals the name of after k-wording her  
>  **Younette** = Kaikai's fiancee, Ala Mhigan refugee

Momo only realizes she’s growing old when she sees it in Clari.

It’s too cloudy for a sunset, this evening. Momo returns back from guard duty with a muddy sword and a dirt-crusted shield. “Some kids spooked a chocobo,” she complains, cranking the rusty pipe by the cottage entrance to hose herself off in the front yard before tracking mud into the house. “Poor thing fell over to its side, right into the mud, and guess who was dutifully standin’ guard at the gate? That’s right.”

“I hope you didn’t scare them too badly,” Claribel hums, and Momo rolls her eyes. She wrings her own tail, picking dirt out from under her fingernails.

It’s cold today, but Claribel doesn’t mind. She pulls up a garden chair and sits outside the door, regardless of snow or shine, and waits for Momo to come back home. She always greets Momo before the Miqo’te has a chance to, because no one else walks quite like her-- a heavy gait, weighed down by chainmail, yet light enough to almost be missed if one wasn’t paying attention. She walks on dry grass the same way she stomps through a foot of snow. Momo is recognizable, distinct. In a world of colors that all blur together, Momo is a constant.

When you get to a certain age, everything begins to become a constant. It’s funny-- how you can spend years whizzing here and there, rushing on adventures, feeling the whole world pass by oh-so-fast, and then, suddenly, time stops. You make it stop.

“Bloody cold today,” Momo laughs, shaking the last bit of water out of her fur. A little gets on Claribel’s dress, but she doesn’t say anything. As she lets out a ‘brrr’ through gritted teeth, the cottage door opens behind them. “--Lulu! Perfect timing!” 

Louys gives Momo a wordless nod before placing the tray in his hands on the wooden table next to Clari. It’s a big pot of tea, two cups-- only two, because Louys doesn’t drink the tea he brews beyond the initial taste-test. “It’s hot,” he warns, opening the top of the teapot to let the steam pour out. Momo warms her hands over the teapot, feeling the white wisps wrap around her fingers, returning feeling to her numbing fingers.

“Cold is good,” Claribel answers, while Momo pulls up another chair to sit next to her. “Cold means less mosquitos.”   
  
“But summer nights are cold,” Momo reasons. “And there are  _ always _ mosquitos.”

“I try not to think about that,” Claribel sighs, and she reaches out for the teapot. But it’s hot, hot even to touch, so she draws her hand away. “Ah, it really  _ is  _ hot today!”   
  
“I warned you,” Louys replies, walking into the doorway. He switches on the lanterns by the garden porch as he closes the door, and the light buzzes to life, like a collection of fireflies.

Momo looks up, watching the lanterns flicker for a bit before switching on completely. “The lights are busted. We need to replace the magic in them.” 

“We can wait till Breve comes back,” Claribel hums. “They should last till then.”   
  
“Menphina’s sake, woman, Breve’s over in  _ Doma,  _ it could be months till she comes to visit!” Momo huffs and stands up, tapping the glass of a lantern impatiently. “Looks like I’ll have to learn how to fix this, too.”

“And so it begins,” Claribel says, a smile playing over her lips. “Another step into Lanlan’s eventual transformation into a domesticated housewife.”

“Fuck off,” Momo replies, and Claribel can’t help but let out a piercing laugh. She stops herself, though it takes a while, and the neighbours are probably staring. Or not; they’re probably used to this.

The lantern right above them flickers, again. “Gods, it’s so annoying,” Momo sighs, resting into the garden chair. She looks at Claribel. The teapot is still hot to touch.

Everything falls into silence.

She doesn’t know when she notices it, or what even triggers her to look at Claribel’s face so closely. Perhaps it’s the flickering light, and how it fails to illuminate her skin, pale, faint blush from the cold, striking red tattoos-- Momo’s eyes find their way to Claribel’s face, and for a moment, she’s taken aback.

“Clari?”   
  
“Yes?”   
  
“You feel good?”   
  
“Ah?” Claribel tilts her head. “I’m fine. What’s wrong?”   
  
“Nothing,” Momo says, getting ahold of herself. “It’s nothing. Trick of light.”

But it’s not a trick of light. For a moment, when she looked at Claribel’s face-- the wrinkles on her cheeks suddenly so much more pronounced than they were ten years ago, the sag in her lips, the eye bags, and she thinks, by the Gods, she looks so much like a middle-aged woman, and--

Momo only realizes she’s growing old when she sees it in Clari.

When you’re not really paying that much attention, your brain fills up the gaps in your memories. It’s been a while since she’s seen Claribel’s face-- really  _ seen  _ it, not just a glance, nod, a laugh-- and her memory fills up those gaps with the face she remembers. The stubborn Duskwight girl, a conjurer more accomplished in opening wounds than closing them, that clueless child who tried to run away from home and nearly got eaten by a wolf on her first day in the Shroud. Her little sister who turned out to be two months older than her, the childish, chubby Elezen cheeks that Momo made fun of till she suddenly outgrew them,  _ nearly overnight, bloody Elezen puberty-- _

“Lanlan?”   
  
“How many years has it been?”   
  
Claribel blinks. “Huh? Since we fixed the lights?”   
  
“No, you--” Momo shakes her head. “Since I met you.”   
  
“That’s a difficult question,” Claribel admits, before she begins counting down. She looks off wistfully, looking at the sky, as if searching for stars-- though Momo clearly knows that, even if the stars were there, Claribel wouldn’t be able to see them. “I suppose... Kaikai is twenty-seven this spring, and two winters ago... close to thirty years.”

Momo slumps into the chair.

“How time flies,” Momo says. She knows it’s been thirty years.  _ Thirty years.  _ She, just hasn’t let it sink in, not quite--

“Lanlan, the tea’s ready to drink now,” Claribel says. She searches for the teapot handle, but Momo’s fingers move faster, and she pours a cup for the both of them-- Claribel first, then herself.

The lantern gives another flicker, and finally dies for good.

Even in the darkness, as Claribel brings the teacup to her lips, Momo can see the wrinkles on her face. Momo traces the skin of her own cheeks and wonders if others can see hers, too.

\-----

Momo remembers her mother, barely--

“When did you know something was wrong?” 

“When I couldn’t hold you.” Her answer, so simple, utterly poignant, smile on her lips while she says it. “When I couldn’t hold my newborn daughter in my arms without feeling like my body would break.”

Yes, she remembers her mother. She remembers being held by her, thinking she was immovable as a mountain, even though she was cracking like the reeds in the whistling wind. She remembers her death, when Momo was too old to be held but not too old to cry. She is nine when she learns that, despite the grandiose legends of warrior women and fearless heroines, death is just that: death. It is nothing but death. It is a flickering light, uncomfortable to watch in its wavering existence-then-not, and then it goes out for good. It is not sleep, because a corpse is not sleeping, and she learns this intimately-- a dead person is dead, very clearly so, a living soul reduced to a bag of flesh and it’s uncanny, unsightly.

Her mother was always weak, her aunt told her. Momo’s birth was the beginning of the end.

_ But she never regretted you. You were the best thing that happened to her. She always loved you. _

Momo remembers killing her aunt.

She remembers the feeling of a body going limp at her feet, blood still warm on her skin but quickly turning icy cold. She remembers pulling the sword out of her body, the sensation of slimy guts in gross colors between her toes, fat spilling from torn skin, disgusting,  _ disgusting-- _

Death is just that: death.

Contrary to what her reputation would lead others to believe, Momo did not enjoy killing her aunt. There is nothing thrilling about it, and no matter how many times she does it, seeing the light go out in someone’s eyes, the visceral, twisting agony in their face as she tries to make it quick but it never fucking goes well-- she doesn’t like it at all. She doesn’t sleep well on it. She knows, she  _ knows _ that she did the right thing, but she always wonders, when she closes her eyes and dreams of those lifeless eyes, spilled guts, crimson sword.

She wonders if her mother would regret having her, if she knew.

There is not a single soul who she trusts with her history. At most, she only tells them of the happier parts: when her mother taught her how to dance, when a travelling merchant once gave her a basket full of apples, when she made her first stew and everyone pretended it was the best thing they’ve ever tasted (or, it was, at least, edible--).

She doesn’t tell them of the first time she learnt how to sharpen her sword, or when she saw the fruits of her aunt’s unspeakable evils. She doesn’t tell them how Kaillan isn’t her given name, it’s her aunt’s-- or how Toxtle was made up, a word stolen from the Ixali language, because when she fled her clan and was branded for murder, she decided she might as well become a monster and live up to it.

Sometimes, though, she does allude to it. She explained to Clari, once, that killing people is easy when you think you’re in the right. “It must take a strong reason to believe so,” Claribel commented, and perhaps she was correct. “I couldn’t imagine it.”   
  
“You don’t want to,” Momo answered, and then she laughed, as if it wasn’t true.

She knows that she did the right thing. She  _ knows. _

But it doesn’t make her feel any better, because death is just that: death. There is supposed to be absolution. Some feel euphoric when it is delivered; others, just relieved. Momo just sees the corpse at her feet and realizes that it’s all just the same.

Ending life is one thing. Creating it is a whole different matter altogether.

Kaillan’a was born on a summer day. She remembers the mosquitoes. Fucking mosquitoes.

The first time she looked at her son, she remembered why she took her aunt’s name. It’s something she doesn’t like to think on, a sin she would rather not admit. But, well, no one knew the meaning behind that name other than herself, anyway. And she never had to hear the name  _ Kaillan  _ unless she said it herself--  _ Lanlan  _ had caught onto everyone, and the baby boy only had to babble  _ Kaikai  _ once for it to stick for good.

Yes, she remembers. She remembers everything. She remembers holding Kai in her arms and thinking that she finally,  _ finally  _ understands what her mother felt. To love someone so much that they mean more than anything else in the world to you. To say, with full confidence, that her son is the best thing that ever happened to her.

_ But she never regretted you. _

How could she ever reconcile this guilt? How can any parent, who just remotely cares?

How do you cope with the guilt of regretting your own child?

She remembers everything. That winter night, when everything went wrong, Claribel and Louys were in Ul’dah and couldn’t help her, snow piling up on the front door, fireplace wouldn’t light up, a window’s not sealed well somewhere because it’s getting colder and colder and Momo can’t fucking stop the winter air from rushing in, she takes off all her furs and bundles Kai in them but he’s still crying because it’s freezing, it’s cold,  _ mama, it’s cold,  _ leaning over the fireplace and throwing in fresh coals and feeling the chill against her bare skin as she hunches over the firewood and tries to light it up, just a spark,  _ it’s cold, mama-- _

She remembers everything. She remembers picking up a thick block of firewood.

She remembers wanting to fucking bludgeon Kai to death.

\--But she doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t. She just grits her teeth, pushing the firewood back in before continuing to try lighting it, promising Kai that it’d just be another minute before they get a roaring hot fire and then she’ll make supper and then it’s bedtime,  _ okay?  _ She doesn’t do it, but that’s the first thought which opens up the floodgates. The proverbial rush of forbidden thoughts, thoughts that Mothers Shouldn’t Have, thoughts which she had subconsciously kept at bay for so long because  _ Kai should be the best thing that’s ever happened to me-- _

“You know, if you’d never been born, I could’ve been famous,” Momo hissed, and she regretted those words the very moment they left her mouth, but she kept going, because she never fucking knows when to quit-- “I could’ve adventured across the globe, never staying in one place for a full moon, hell, maybe I could’ve actually chased some of my dreams! But you were born, so I’m stuck here, in this backwater city, making sure you never go to bed hungry, when I could’ve fucking thrown you out into the ditches when you were born, but I  _ didn’t--  _ how ungrateful are you? Will it kill you to ever spare me a thought? Do you understand how much I’ve given up for you? Because I  _ love _ you?  _ Do you?!” _

Death is just that: death.

There is no coming back. When someone’s trust in you dies, it’s gone for good. When Momo kills her son’s trust in her, it’s not with a sword, and there’s no spilling of guts-- but it’s gruesome, all the same, and it haunts her dreams in just as much.

She hates winter, now.

Sometimes, Momo remembers being a real mother.

It’s not much. Maybe it’s because she tries to forget, on purpose. It’s easier to just place herself in the role of the villain, the hopeless layabout that could never get everything right because she never tried-- and it’s much harder to acknowledge that she tried her fucking darnedest and it wasn’t enough.

But, if there’s anything to praise about Momo, it’s her impeccable memory. She might not know which man was Kai’s father, but she remembers all their faces, all their names (if he gave it to her), how they slept with their legs curled around her body and how they were gone like the wind in the morning-- she remembers the first time Louys read out a sentence to her, the pride in his eyes when it made it the whole way through without a mistake. Even when she tries to forget, she remembers holding Kai in her arms, the sunlight falling through the window, flowers blooming on the windowsill planter, her song, her mother’s song--

“Hushabye, baby, don’t you cry,” Momo sang, tracing Kai’s face with her fingers. “Mama’s gonna save you from any bad guy. Hushabye, listen to my lullaby. Mama’s never, ever gonna say good-bye...”

\-----

The first time she falls in love is not what she thinks it is.

(“I love you,” she says to Claribel first, but there is no reason to ever be truthful, no reason to let her know the truth-- “I love you both,” comes the clarification, while she reaches out to embrace the both of them, when did they become taller than her?)

(She’s sure, though, that deep inside, Claribel understands her true meaning. But there is no reason to ever be truthful, no reason to let her know the truth.)

She tried to hate the both of them, when they first met. But two runaway children with complicated history with their families, lost in the forest... Momo has always cared more than she would like to admit, and it is a little more difficult to abandon people who you see so much of yourself in.

Keeper girls are raised to be independent from young. For Momo, growing up fast wasn’t a choice. She learnt to steal, she learnt to imitate, she learnt to bargain-- she learnt to say  _ yes _ because it’s so much easier when you just comply.

In contrast, Claribel was a hopeless bookworm, someone Momo doubted had ever even left home before this. She understands why these type of people want to run away, however.

Louys was an enigma, in the way that he is as tight-lipped about his past as Momo herself. But she can guess: the life for Duskwights who still live underground, scouring the Gelmorran ruins, is not a very pleasant one. Little wonder why he would run away, once he learn of the whistling wind, of the feeling accompanying sun-kissed skin and the scent of flowers. The Black Shroud is so, so cruel, but so abjectly beautiful. There is no place quite like it.

(Not anymore.)

In hindsight, perhaps Momo learnt about motherhood a little earlier than she’d initially thought. It’s easier to roll out of bed when you know there are people who depend on you. It’s easier to grit your teeth and bear through the sweltering heat or the winter night when you know someone is waiting for you back home and you just need to keep, on, walking.

Really, it was easier perhaps because she held no obligation to the both of them, and they knew it-- they called her  _ big sis Lanlan,  _ and for as long as they were only hip-height to her, would endure all the headpats without complaint. They had free lunches at the Conjurer’s Guild, and always saved a portion for Momo’s dinner. Momo tried her best to pretend they weren’t dirt poor, that sleeping on the floor of a tiny apartment was a totally fun experience (sleepovers  _ every night,  _ okay?), but they knew, they all knew, and they never said it, except in the times Momo crawled to bed hungry and she woke up to ten apples by her bedside in the morning.

(“Where did you get that?”)   
  
(“I stole it,” Claribel laughed.)

It takes her a few years and a lot more experience to appreciate what the both of them brought her. It takes a decade longer to truly thank Menphina that the both of them, undeniably, were good people.

What they lacked in gil, they made up for in adventure. In all truth, Momo was never really the type to believe in heroic tales and go off in search of a land made of gold, or to save a princess in a far-off kingdom. But Claribel was a die-hard romantic armed with an extensive knowledge of fairytales, which made her a force to be reckoned with when her mind was made up. And Louys...

...It will take decades more to understand whatever goes through his head, but Momo has an inkling that he’s just really indecisive and goes with whoever speaks the loudest.

Through the lens of nostalgia, Momo will always speak fondly of the time they traversed the wild Coerthas Highlands.  _ There was danger at every step! Murderous deer all over the place!  _ She recalls a certain memory, where they camped at the top of the hill, when Louys cracked a joke. Momo’s shrill laughter rang through the whole of the valley, and they had the flee for another three days and three nights to shake off the horde of monsters. “That’s why your father doesn’t joke around much anymore,” Momo recounted with a sigh, and Tiffney rolled her eyes--

\--Tiffney--

Their cottage is adorned in paintings. A famous painter in Idyllshire, someone skilled enough to take a snapshot from life and transpose it onto a painting, based their artwork off the detailed sightseeing logs of Tiffney’s Wildwood friend. Tiffney herself received a large amount of these paintings. There is one of Ishgard, so distinct in its glory and yet so utterly unrecognisable. There is one of a grand-looking tree in the Churning Mists, one which Tiffney is so strangely fond of. And then there are--

The landscapes of ice. A dreaming dragon hidden in the snow. The cold. The winter.

Momo hates the winter.

The second time she falls in love is not what she thinks it is. Love is not that instantaneous attraction, the spark that lights the fire and somehow manages to burn throughout your whole life. Those kinds of infatuations cannot stave off the winter. Tiffney calls her to Ishgard one day, and it is one journey in hundreds, but this time, it is different. She’s always had time to admire the scenery on her many retainer calls, but today, the snowfall is so stark. The grey buildings are so utterly lonely. The way the light falls onto Tiffney’s hair when she packs everything neatly, hands them to Momo and says,

“I’m sorry.”

Momo only realises she truly loves her family when Tiffney says she’s never coming home.

She hates the winter. She fucking hates Ishgard.

If she closes her eyes, she can still see the grasslands. The greenery that went on for miles, the whistling wind, the sound of her own laughter echoing through the valley-- but then she opens her eyes, she  _ wakes up,  _ to a reality where she failed to protect both of her children.

_You’re just like your mother, when she was your age._ A force to be reckoned with when your mind is made up. Momo could try all she liked, but there was no way to convince Tiffney, not when the only thing she could see was the sheer loss she had just endured. 

“I’m going to burn this city,” Tiffney rasped, “to the fucking ground.”

“Tzitzi, please!” Momo grabbed her hand, but she pulled it out of her grip without breaking a sweat, when did Tiffney grow taller than her--? “It’s not like I don’t understand--!”   
  
“You don’t understand,” Tiffney answered. Not with malice, just impatience. Was she more imposing back then, or was it just the greatsword on her back which made her so? “I’m sorry. I’m  _ sorry _ . I have to do this.”

“You wrote to us about him,” Momo said desperately. It’s like she’s gasping for air, the winter cold, it makes the oxygen so thin-- “Would he have wanted this?”

“Don’t you fucking tell me what he would have wanted--”   
  
“Your mother!” Momo’s this close to screaming, but she wondered if anyone would even hear her, in this dark alleyway with nothing but the grey around her. “I read to her. Every letter. She sits, by the front porch, every evening, waiting for me to come back, and she’s always waiting for another letter, it’s all she does, it’s all she has now, you’re  _ all she has now, Tiffney Lallamonde, don’t you understand?  _ No man is worth throwing your life away for! Tiffney, listen to me!”

(The first time she falls in love--

when she opens up Claribel’s purse as she sleeps and finds there is nothing inside. She should’ve known that Clari never had it in her to steal, and never will.)

\-----

In many ways, Tiffney was a second chance.

It’s common for the first child to get treated more harshly. Especially amongst the Keepers, who err on the side of strictness, the first child is their guinea pig. By the time the second child comes along, they know when to loosen their grip, if just a little bit. With Clari and Louys getting busier by the day with increasing responsibilities at the Conjurer’s Guild, at some point, ‘Aunt Lanlan’ became the one who spent the most time with the little Elezen girl.

Maybe it’s because Tiffney wasn’t that much of a problem child. Maybe it’s because Clari and Louys did a good job of raising her out of that troublesome stage. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because Momo looked at Tiffney and could only see Clari’s eyes reflected back at her, to the point she could never treat Tiffney as anything but an angel.

Tiffney and Kai were raised under the same roof. When Clari and Louys finally settled back in Gridania, they just moved back in with Momo, because what the fuck is money, and also, they were used to small living spaces anyway. Plus, Louys is a good enough carpenter to make their little cottage count-- with the loft space and the gorgeous windows, it never felt like their house was too small for all five of them. Kai was always a timid child, and it’s almost certainly Momo’s fault, because she treated him like glass the first few years of his life-- while Claribel would be the one to grab Kai and toss him straight into the river on the presumption ‘it’s okay, babies float’.

  
Momo used to tell Clari that when she had her own child, she’d understand. But when Tiffney grew up precocious, daring,  _ brave, _ Momo had... second thoughts.

Many years later, Kai would say something that would stick with all of them. “I was your kid, but Tiffney was everyone’s.”

If you spoke to most parents, they would agree (with enough liquor to force the truth out of them) that they have a favorite child. It’s natural: there’s always going to be a child that you simply agree more with, whose personality complements your own a little better. If you’re a good parent, you try not to let these feelings cloud your judgment. You will never admit you have a favorite child, especially  _ not  _ to said children, and you will swear up and down you love them all equally.

But Momo was clearly not a good mother.

Kai is six when Tiffney is born. He is told to take care of her, because she’s his little sister now. He is nine when Tiffney begins to bully him instead, jumping onto him and demanding piggybacks, coming at him with a stick (“My sword of the forest!”) and jabbing him all over, pulling at his cheeks till he starts to cry-- it’s a nightmare, at first, but it dies down as soon as it begins. Momo realizes that Tiffney simply learns  _ better  _ from her tut-tuts and slaps on the wrist than Kai, and after years of what feels like talking to a brick wall, it feels so  _ satisfying  _ to hear her say, “I won’t bully you, I’ll be your knight! Aunt Lanlan said she was my mom’s knight, too!”

Tiffney is five when she starts coming along for ‘adventures’. None of them have ever been good with cloth and a needle, but their neighbour sews her a faux-chainmail in exchange for a brand new table, and she loves it. She is too young to mind the fact that her shield is made of wood and her sword is a fork. Momo sharpens her weapon meticulously and polishes her shield till the logo of the Twin Adders could be seen for miles-- even short explorations into the Shroud can quickly turn dangerous, and Momo knows better than to take any chances.

Their little expeditions barely bring her out of the gatekeepers’ sights. She hunted little ladybugs and mean squirrels-- sometimes, she even brought some of the fatter ones home, and a well-cooked squirrel always tastes good when you take it down yourself. To Tiffney, though, it’s a whole new world-- and when she ran afoul of a Treant one day, Momo quickly pulled it off her and sliced it to pieces before it could so much as touch her.

“Whoa,” Tiffney gasped. “Aunt Lanlan! You’re so cool!”   
  
(She wishes her son would say that.

She wishes her son wasn’t her son.)

Tiffney is a little air-headed, when it comes to most things. But concerning adventure? She’s too damn sharp. “Aunt Lanlan, didn’t we come here last week, too?” “Aunt Lanlan, I remember this tree! I wrote my name on it!” “Aunt Lanlan, can’t we go fight something other than squirrels?”

To keep her entertained while keeping her out of danger, Momo makes up entire dungeons for her. A real-life fairytale for Tiffney to act out, if you will. She puts great care into crafting her story, because Tiffney will always fixate on the little details, and she’ll know instantly if anything is contradictory. “We are adventurers, going to infiltrate the Ixali headquarters to find inside information,” Momo narrated, in that voice which made Tiffney hang onto every single word. “The featherbrains are stupid enough for us to sneak in with a disguise, but we need codenames. Names of Ixali origin. I’ve got a whole book of them here. Which one are you gonna choose, soldier?”   
  
“My own codename!” Tiffney poured over the pages, and that turned out to be a good enough distraction in itself. It takes her a whole week of deep thought for her to come up to Momo with a name, someone that rolls off her lips with pride:

“Tzitzimime Atenco!”   
  
“Chi-- what?”

“My name!” Tiffney said indignantly. Momo stared at her blankly for a few seconds before she remembered. “Tzitzimime Atenco!”   
  
“Oh... oh. Okay,” Momo answered. “Interesting name!”   
  
“Then, you’ll be--”   
  
“Wait, you’re choosing my name, too--?!” 

“Momoztli! Momoztli Toxtle,” Tiffney proclaimed. “Let’s do it, Aunt Momo!”   
  
“You have to call me by the full codename, Tzitzimaim-- Tzitzi--  _ Tzitzi.” _

\-----

Breve is such a wonderful girl.

Tiffney is fourteen when the Keeper girl suddenly bursts through the front door with her, hauling a dead antelope while the both of them collapse from exhaustion at the cottage entrance. It doesn’t take long for Momo to like her-- a once-sheltered Keeper from a reclusive family, tempted away from the safety of home for the allure of adventure. She has the fortune of having a good head on a shoulders, something that the rest of the family sorely lacked at her age, and though she never met Breve’s mother, if she had the chance, perhaps she would praise her on how she raised such a proper young girl. Strained though their mother-daughter relationship might be, Breve’s mother must’ve done  _ something _ right.

In the aftermath of the Calamity, dozens were clamouring to pick up conjury and help the relief effort. Breve was no exception, though her understanding of the Calamity was little more than the brief night lights that streaked across the sky, and the strangeness of the red moon that disappeared after her mother told her to  _ sleep, sleep, sleep.  _ After that event, Claribel and Louys made a personal arrangement with E-Sumi-Yan: to make sure that Tiffney would never, ever pick up conjury, because she deserved better than a life on the battlefield, and deserved better to see the worst of the world on her adventures. But they should’ve known better. They all did, really, but they hoped for the impossible, anyway.

No one wants their children to suffer, after all. But children are children. They will adventure if they so please. They will hurt themselves if they so please. They will disappear, run away, and never come back-- if they so please.

Tiffney picked up archery instead. The Archer’s Guild was open to teaching any man-- Gridanian or foreigner, Wildwood or Duskwight, Seeker or Keeper. Claribel would admit, some years later, that when Breve sat huddled on the corner of the couch with her nose in a spellbook, she realized that stopping Tiffney from learning conjury was a good idea after all. “As if she could sit still for so long,” she laughed.

Still, there is some loss to it. All of them are hopeless with a bow, leaving Tiffney to struggle on her own. But on some nights, when Breve is struggling with a new spell, Louys and Claribel would sit beside her, slowly reading out the incantations, fixing her posture, watching the spark in her eyes when the cane finally glowed,  _ finally!-- _ something a little more suited for doing with your own daughter. Except that, really, Breve is their daughter in everything except blood. At this point, there’s no question about it.

“You are such a mature girl,” Claribel praised, once.

Breve looked at her and deadpanned, “Someone’s gotta make up for Tiffney.”

Momo remembers being envious. Envious about the fact that Claribel can laugh at her daughter’s expense, and while Tiffney threw a glare, she never took it to heart. It’s so hard to imagine-- a relationship between mother and child where, no matter what happens, you both know you love each other anyway. It’s an unsaid truth, something that runs beneath every conversation.

Where is it? Why can’t Momo find it?

Kai is twenty throughout all this.

Kai is twenty.

Kai is--

\-----

“Then I fucking wish you’d  _ let me die--” _

\-----

Kai is twenty when the moon comes crashing down.

They don’t tell Tiffney the full extent of it. She knows that her parents and Aunt Momo are going to fight some ‘filthy Garleans’. She knows that, somehow, it’s got something to do with the moon that draws ever closer. But she’s not scared, because her parents are invincible. They tuck her in on the last day before deployment and say they’ll be back soon, all together, and if she behaves well while they’re gone, they’ll cook up a feast when they’re reunited,  _ okay? _

“You can’t fight in the same unit as your wife.”

That was the first time she’d ever heard Louys question, in such a furious tone-- “Why not?”

The Serpent officer barely looked up from the book in their hands. Those smug Wildwoods, never even giving them a passing glance-- “When a battalion gets attacked, it’s likely the whole unit will suffer heavy casualties. We have to separate couples; army policy. Less issues after when one parent’s dead compared to two.”

“I’ll ask for the same unit as Clari,” Momo reassured him. “We’re not family on paper.”

It’s not like it’ll matter. They’ll all come back home.

(But there is no reason to ever be truthful, no reason to let her know the truth. We always lie until we can’t keep it up anymore, huh? That’s always been the way. Every fucking time, goddammit,  _ Kaillan, please--) _

It takes everything in her to not have an argument with Kai before she leaves home. If he wants to shut himself in his room and refuses to see her before she goes to war, fine. That’s on him for not taking fucking  _ anything  _ seriously. She doesn’t even know what he’s angry at her about, this time. She just knows, that with the anger boiling inside her chest, she swallows it all down, leans on the door--

“Kai.” Silence. “Kai, I love you. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

The moon is so beautiful tonight.

\-----

“The moon is so beautiful tonight.” Her mother’s words are a cradle, and they softly lull her into sleep. “Remember. No matter where I go, we’ll always be looking at the same moon. The moon will never say good-bye...”

Others in the tribe always had so much to say about her mother’s beautiful eyes. They were white, such a splendid, shining white, as big and round as the moon. Momo took after her father-- her eyes were blood red, fresh like an opened wound. Scary to look at. Not at all soothing. She wished her eyes looked like the moon.

What a fucking stupid wish, she realized. When Dalamud began to fall and she looked at herself in the mirror. What a hilariously fucking stupid wish.

When she opened her eyes, they became pieces of the red moon. On every normal night, they stand out, a glistening crimson against the night sky. On that day, though, everything blends in. Everything is red.

Death is so hideous, but this time, particularly so.

Momo doesn’t see it happen. A lapse in attention, just a moment with her head turned, staring at the shattering moon, how it splintered into nothing and how brilliant a red it is. The falling rocks shake the ground beneath her, and, by the Gods it’s crashing down close by, Clari, get here,  _ Clari--! _

She took Claribel’s hand and rushed over the battlefield. They hopped over the bodies of Garleans and Eorzeans alike. It didn’t matter if they were still alive, they need to save themselves, they need to outrun this-- the end of the world, they can outrun it,  _ somehow,  _ please keep running, please, Claribel, please, please, please--

(Please be alright. Please don’t leave me. Please. I love you. Please.)

Claribel slumped onto Momo’s back. Her fingers slipped out of reach.

Her blood is still warm on Momo’s neck.

\-----

Claribel ends every fairytale with a tragedy.

“I want dad to read my bedtime story,” Tiffney protests. “You’re gonna let the princess die again.”   
  
“Maybe not!” Claribel opens the pages, ignoring the words and just focusing on the pretty pictures. “Maybe I’ll make the dragon eat the prince, instead. That’s a fresh change. Or raze the entire country to the ground.”   
  
“You’re the worst, mom.”

But, even the most unnecessarily catastrophic storyteller in the world has her own charm. Tiffney likes to fight back against her endings. “But that doesn’t make sense! You said the princess was smart, she wouldn’t walk into such an obvious trap!” “It was summer at the start of the story. There’s no way they can freeze to death so suddenly!”

Suddenly, the night-time arguments were what managed to tire Tiffney to sleep. Apparently, a tough-fought but satisfying victory is good to bring into your dreams. Claribel tries to fight back for the sake of fighting back, but in the end, she caves. Sometimes it takes a little more convincing than usual, and sometimes Tiffney gets a little frustrated, but every night, Tiffney delivers the fairytale to a happy ending.

Years later, Tiffney stands at the door and takes a moment to find the words. “Mom,” she says. “I understand why you made me fight for a happy ending now.”

“I’m not as noble as you believe,” Clari responds, a grin spreading from ear to ear. “Really, I just wanted to scare you out of adventuring.”   
  
“Give me a chance to actually compliment you without making me regret it instantly, mom--!” Tiffney sighs. “This is really hard for me, you know! Urgh--”

\-----

Tiffney is fourteen when she asks, “Why doesn’t mom read to me anymore?”

\-----

“Please, Gods, no!” Momo doesn’t know who’s screaming. She can’t recognize the sound of her own voice, or the hoarseness of her own throat. “No, Clari,  _ no!” _

She doesn’t know what it was. A piece of the falling moon, or maybe a stray piece of Garlean artillery. It doesn’t really matter. Clari’s wound is fresh, the huge gash on the back of her head, bleeding, crimson, like the sky, like Momo’s eyes, like her beating heart, no, please, please don’t, don’t take her away, don’t--

“PLEASE!” Momo screams even when she knows no one will answer. “PLEASE! I DON’T WANT HER TO DIE!”

“--Wake up. Lanlan!”

Momo’s hands fly to Clari’s throat, and then, she remembers.

The moon is so beautiful tonight.

The Miqo’te woman just stares, eyes wide open, and it takes her a moment to realize she’s crying. Clari brushes the side of her face, like a mother to a child, and she doesn’t need to see Momo’s expression to know what’s happened. “Bad dream?”   
  
“...Fucking obviously,” Momo answers, and Claribel pulls the covers up.

Momo’s eyes wander. Louys is standing at the doorway, but when he sees everything is under control, he gently closes the door.

Sometimes, Momo wonders exactly what kind of absolute weirdo Louys is to allow this. But, well, the three of them share a strange relationship, anyway-- their family isn’t so cut and dry. Momo is their mother, but also their sister. Louys is her son, but her brother, but sometimes, now, maybe her father. And Claribel, she is...

“Go to sleep.” Claribel crawls into the bedsheets, and Momo remembers she used to do this, years ago, when Claribel cried for her mother in her dreams and the storm kept on thundering outside their tent-- “It’s okay. I’m here.”   
  
“I’m not a child, Clari.”   
  
“I know,” Claribel replies. She stays, nonetheless.

For a moment, Momo considers giving Claribel an apology for waking her up. At the same time, maybe apologize for nearly strangling her out of panic, or apologize for forgetting to wash the dishes again, apologize for never getting anything right, apologize for being such a coward, apologize for existing, just apologize for tonight-- but she doesn’t have a chance to say anything, because Claribel wraps her hands around Momo’s chest and cradles her like a child. “I won’t leave.” Momo opens her eyes, and she sees the wrinkles on Claribel’s face under the moonlight.

(Mama’s never, ever gonna say good-bye...)

So she swallows everything down, and falls in love with her all over again.

\-----

(“You know I love her, right?”   
  
A pause. Louys looks over his shoulder. “Yes.”   
  
“As in-- you get me. You always get me, right? Even if you don’t say it out loud.”

“Lanlan,” Louys says, so gently that Momo wonders if words could possibly feel as soft as clouds yet as heavy as cinderblock, “I know.”

Momo bites her lip. She tries to think of what to say next. “I just-- you’re okay with it?”

“She loves you too,” Louys answers, and somehow, it fucking breaks her heart. “We both do.”)   
  
(She knows it’s not the same. She knows Claribel won’t ever see her in the same way. She knows, deep inside, they both know, they all know, but there is no reason to ever be truthful.

It’s okay.

They’re family.)

\-----

Kai is twenty-seven. Kai is family. We have spent long enough trying to ignore him.

He comes home, finally, on a summer day. It’s raining. He leaves his umbrella by the doorway and lets someone else walk into the living room before he shuts the door behind him.

“Kaikai?” Claribel calls out from the basement. “Is that you?”

“I’m home, mama.” Kai’s guest sits on the couch, and he helps to take her coat. “Is mom here?”

“She’s out now-- but I’m sure she’ll be so happy to see you!” Clari practically races upstairs in excitement. “How are you? Do you need anything? I can fix up a cup of tea!”   
  
“It’s alright.” Kai turns to the woman next to him. “You want anything?”   
  
“No.” The Highlander shakes her head. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  
Claribel blinks, and takes a moment to parse out that he’s brought a guest. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice you! My name is Claribel Lallamonde. You must be Kai’s friend! You are...?”   
  
“It’s Younette,” she replies. Turning to Kai, she whispers, as softly as she can:  _ “She’s really that hard of seeing?” _

“Yes, but not of hearing,” Claribel replies, and Younette moves to apologize before Claribel just laughs. “It’s fine! Younette, yes? I’m so glad to finally meet you! Kai has written so much about you! You’re sure you don’t want any drinks?”   
  
Kai pats the cushion next to him. “It’s okay, ma. You can sit down. How’s papa?”

“Overworked.” Claribel sighs. “A few merchants from Ishgard ran afoul of a horde of Yarzons. Prepared as they were for bandits and poachers, a swarm of those creatures could beset any knight. Lulu has to oversee their recovery.”

“Hm.. Kai told me that both of you are skilled conjurers,” Younette says. “You must be, if you tutored Breve Garamond herself.”

“Oh, she was a prodigy in her own right! Not our work, not at all!”

Kai leans closer. “Speaking of which. Ma, have you heard anything about where Breve and Tiffney are?”   
  
“...I was about to ask you that,” Claribel replies, and her laugh is a bit forced, this time. “Well! You know how the both of them are. Travelling through dangerous lands, fighting wars, no time to write back home with all that going on.”

“Do you need any help around home?” Kai asks, and Claribel wonders how tired she must look, for Kai to be saying that. “Do you need me to move back?”   
  
“You know that we would love it if you did,” Clari says. “But... I think you made yourself... very clear, the last time you left.”   
  
Pause. Kai looks at Younette a little apologetically. “I know, ma. I overdid it. I’m sorry.”

“I understand,” Clari hums. “No, really... I do.”

Younette slaps her arm. “Argh, fuckin’ mosquitoes.”

Claribel lets out a laugh, and Kai loses it too, if only out of thanks for the break in tension. “Sorry for the potty-mouth,” Younette shrugs, though she can clearly see Claribel doesn’t mind it.

“You know,” Claribel says, after catching her breath-- “Lemon balm tea can repel mosquitoes.”   
  
“Really?” Younette says incredulously.

“Really! Once they so much as catch a whiff of it, they’ll be gone in a flash,” Claribel assures. “Well, then... would you like a glass?”   
  
“A whole pot would be lovely,” Younette says.

While Claribel walks to the kitchen at the back, Younette turns back to Kai. She lowers her head, resting it on his shoulder, before closing her eyes with a sigh.

“Kai.”   
  
“Yes?” 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”   
  
“I do,” Kai says, without missing a beat. “Of course I do.”   
  
“I know you don’t like your mom much.”   
  
“As if I would let that get in the way,” Kai retorts, trying not to ignore the understatement of the century. “If we need her approval for an Ala Mhigan wedding, then we will get it. Trust me.”

“You are so--” Younette smiles, before raising her head and reaching out to pinch Kai’s nose. “So cute!”

“P-please let go of me--”   
  
“You’re not going to survive the wedding spar if you can’t take a little nose-pinching,” Younette coos, grabbing Kai’s shoulder and slowly pushing him down onto the couch. She’s on top of him, suddenly, hair falling over her face and a big smile over her lips--

“Well,” Claribel interrupts, “If you’d like to have a room to yourselves, your old room is still neat and tidy, Kai!”

“I’m sorry!!” Kai darts up, nearly bonking his fiancé in the nose. “It’s not what it looks like!” 

Claribel shrugs. “I’ve got nothing against it, just hold it in long enough to not do anything in the living room.”   
  
“Ma!!”

“The lemon balm tea will be done in ten minutes,” Claribel says, and she walks back towards the kitchen. “--I’ll knock before I enter the living room, if you two don’t want to move.”

“No! That won’t be needed--”   
  
“Thank you, ma’m,” Younette says. And she gives Claribel a Flame salute before pinning Kai back down on the couch, covering his mouth with her hand.

Claribel nods sagely. “Maybe I will let the tea cool off first before interrupting them.”

\-----

When Kai is five, Momo tries to teach him how to dance.

It’s a simple dance, one designed for children, a dance under the moonlight on the night of a full moon. She remembers the steps, every movement down to her fingers and the tip of her feline ears. As if she would forget her mother’s dance.

He is clumsy, in the same way all young children are. Claribel watches the both of them, shakes her head whenever Kai looks like he’s about to stumble and Momo rushes to his side to catch him. “You’re going to have to let him fall eventually,” Claribel said, and Momo shook her head, even though she knew it to be true. “He’ll take ages to learn the dance if you keep interrupting him like this.”

On the second night, Kai refuses to get up from the couch. “I don’t want to!” Kai hugs the pillow and falls onto his side, rolling around. “I don’t like to dance, mama!”

Momo doesn’t force him to.

When Kai is eight, Momo tries to teach him how to fight.

She justifies it pretty well: he’s a big brother now, and he needs to learn how to defend his little sister. Not to mention how dangerous the world is getting now, with all the bad Garleans, angry Elementals, poachers being pushed further into Gridanian territory--

“Why can’t I be a conjurer?” Kai holds the lance indignantly. “I don’t want to be a lancer. I want to be a conjurer!”   
  
(“You only remember the times when I said ‘no’ to you--”)

Momo doesn’t force him to.

Kai is thirteen when he gives up conjury, because he just can’t devote himself to the nights of study that white magic requires. It’s normal, expected; conjury isn’t for everyone, and he’s only thirteen.  _ There is plenty of time to pick up archery,  _ Momo suggests, except he doesn’t want to do that, either.  _ If you’d want, mama can bring you to Ul’dah to learn the art of sword and shield, just like me!  _ But Kai refuses.

Momo doesn’t--

Momo doesn’t have an answer, when Claribel asks her, “Why don’t you ever tell him that you love him?”   
  
(“--ungrateful, you’re calling  _ me  _ fucking  _ ungrateful?  _ You’re damn lucky I haven’t fucking poisoned you by now, you ugly whore--”)

Momo doesn’t know when she starts to hate him, but it’s moot point, really.

When Kai was a child, he didn’t want for much. He was timid, quiet, but full of boundless energy with people who knew well. Like most children, really. He didn’t give his mother much trouble, but Momo realizes, in hindsight, it’s likely because she didn’t push him for much when he still stood at her knee-length, eyes wide, _my_ _baby._ She gave enough, but not too much. She didn’t spoil him. She didn’t starve him. It was enough, it should’ve been enough--

(“--nothing was ever enough for you! You didn’t feel proud of me for  _ anything,  _ mom! You just wished I was someone else, didn’t you? Every fucking time you’d brag about her, then wish your  _ son  _ could be so brave, so strong,  _ fuck you, mom,  _ I didn’t ask to be compared my whole bloody life! Nothing was ever for me. I existed just to fulfil all the dreams  _ you  _ couldn’t in your miserable childhood! I’m a person, mom! I’m fucking real! I’m  _ fucking real!”) _

Kaillan’a is seventeen when he kills himself.

Momo remembers, as she is wont to do. He calls her by a forgotten name, tucks her in at night, and moves her bedframe to the windowsill so she can sleep under the gentle sunlight. His eyes are pieces of that same moon, the right moon, the beautiful moon. Her mother’s eyes, grandmother’s eyes before her, and his, too.

“Hushabye, baby, don’t you cry,” Kaillan’a sings. “Mama’s gonna save you from any bad guy. Hushabye, listen to my lullaby. Mama’s never, ever gonna say good-bye...”

Momo’s mother asks her cousin to take care of her after she dies.

When she cries for her mother, because sometimes you wake up from your sleep where they are there and real and you  _ forget,  _ he sings Momo her song. He teaches her the same dance, because there will come a time she must teach her own children, and she mustn’t forget, even if her mother is no longer here to help her.

  
He is a warrior, blackened armor and sharpened spear, but she never sees that side of him. “I can’t leave home yet,” he likes to say, squeezing her cheeks as he does so, “until you can take care of yourself, so grow up faster.” He never means it, though. He tries to be a strict big brother, but when she stares at him, eyes wide, how could he? How could he tell her to grow up?

He never said no to her. He is the twinkling stars that hide beneath the moon’s glow, shining so bright you can’t bear to look at them. He was her mother, when the night is creeping and all she can see are the pieces of the moon in his eyes. He was as gentle as her, as invincible as her, a hero, my hero--

_ Don’t open the door.  _ His handwriting is neat, small, yet ever-so recognisable. She sees it, still, when she writes with her own hands. She took after him, in the end; it makes sense. He taught her everything.  _ Please call my mother. She will handle this. Don’t open the door. _

_ Don’t open the door. _

But children will be children.

\-----

Kai tries to keep it together, at first.

They don’t bring Claribel back for a few weeks. She was in no state to have visitors, and even when she is, no mother wants their child to see them in such a state. For the longest time, Kai believed that Claribel was dead, with Louys and Momo paying lip service to protect Tiffney’s innocence. He said nothing to the girl, of course, but when she was fast asleep and the three of them stood outside the doorway, Kai let his mother know exactly what he felt about it.

“But there is no reason to ever be truthful. No reason to let her know the truth. We always lie until we can’t keep it up anymore, huh? That’s always been the way. Every fucking time, goddammit,  _ mom, please--” _

“She’s not fucking dead,” Momo hisses. “And even if she was, who the fuck are you to talk back to me like that?”

“Papa, please!” Kai looks at him, desperately, and Louys keeps quiet. “You can’t just keep going like this!”

Momo grabs Kai’s shoulder, yanking him back. “Don’t turn this onto him! Kai, listen to me!”   
  
“Kai.”

Louys reaches out, touching Kai’s other shoulder. He pushes Momo’s hand off-- not forcefully, but enough to make her step back. “Kai... look at me.”   
  
Kai doesn’t look up. “Papa, this is crazy.”   
  
“It is,” Louys admits. “But believe me when I say she is alive. I know it hurts. I know you want to see her.”   
  
Silence. Kai refuses to stare at anything but his feet. “Please, just tell me the truth.”   
  
“I know you don’t believe us. But I promise you, Kai. You  _ will  _ see her again.” After the Calamity, even the sound of grasshoppers can’t be heard anymore. “I swear to you. We wouldn’t lie, Kai. We love you. We love you both, so much.”

Kai looks at Louys.

He only begins crying when he realizes Louys is.

Kai used to cry so much, as a baby-- but he outgrew it so fast, as if he was forced to. He liked to make fun of Tiffney for being a crybaby, even when it earned him a punch in the face. No, he doesn’t cry much. Boys don’t cry.

“Mama,” he chokes, and his voice is barely above a whisper. He tries to speak again, but it cracks, and Louys pulls him into a hug, wordlessly, while the tears rush down his eyes like a river. “Mama!” He grips the fabric on Louys’ chest and begs, as if he could bring her back, with a wail--  _ mama, mama. _

(Momo wonders if Kai would cry for her the same way.)

He goes back to his old habits, after that. He cries in happiness when he sees Claribel again, injured as she may be, bandage over her eyes but a smile over her lips. He cries when she removes the bandages and falls down the stairs, stubbornly refusing to admit she can barely see the railings. He cries when he’s sitting by Tiffney’s bed, reading her a bedtime story, and she asks why her mom can’t do it anymore. He cries, Tiffney cries, and he tries to make fun of her but he can’t stop crying, even though boys don’t cry--

Tiffney never once thought that her mother wouldn’t come back. It’s that same foolish stubbornness that leads her to believe her mother’s eyesight will return with time, too. “They’re conjurers, right?” Tiffney picked up her mother’s staff. “Dad can just heal her injuries!”

As the years go by and Clari never really gets better, Tiffney’s stubbornness slowly melts into some kind of fierce acceptance. There is no time where she snaps her fingers and decides, yep, there’s no way mom can go back to normal! --But everyone realises, in a sudden  _ oh, she knows,  _ when Tiffney is nineteen, leaving on a mission with Breve and she says, “You know, mom, there’s no shame in asking for help.”

It makes sense, after Tiffney leaves for an unending journey, and the pieces fall into place. How the sauce jars in the kitchen are always arranged in a way that Claribel can find her favorite one with just a little trial-and-error. How the bathroom towels on the hanger were scented, with lavender or peaches or roses, so Claribel could always find her unscented one without missing a beat. The way Tiffney pulled down a tree branch in front of the gate when she left home every morning, so it’d make a big, obvious noise when she came back, or anyone tried to mess with their house. The things no one really commented on that all went away when she did.

She never says it with her voice. When she was younger, it came easily to her-- the way she would hug her mother around the waist suddenly and say,  _ I love you.  _ Unprecedented, spontaneous, genuine. Her mother always gave the biggest reaction, but she did it to Louys too. She begins doing it to Kai when she realizes it makes him squeal in discomfort. Momo receives the same treatment whenever they get back home from an adventure-- and even when Momo is tired, covered in dirt and just wants a shower, she will endure Tiffney’s incessant, five-minute hugs, and pat her head as she says it,  _ I love you, Aunt Momo-- _

At a certain age, showing affection suddenly becomes weird. Awkward.  _ No one does it. _ Tiffney clams up when she has to say those words now, and they come out stilted, her eyes averted to avoid everyone’s gaze as she spits it out as quickly as possible. But even so, even when she’s been gone from home for days, weeks, years-- she writes the same thing at the end of the letter. She never forgets.

_ I love everyone so much. _

Even in text, it’s difficult. The ink bleeds into the page a little more on those words, as if her pen stays in one place for a long time. Her handwriting becomes slightly better, or maybe somewhat worse, depending on her mood when she’s writing. Momo never points it out to Clari, but sometimes, she has to read Tiffney’s letters through smudged ink. Scattered drops of water. Tears.

Kai never said it back to her, not even back then, when Tiffney was old enough to tease him with it but not old enough to understand his embarrassment. But she knows, he’s sure.

Tiffney is the reason Kai holds it together for so long.

When Tiffney is there, Kai tones it down. He keeps his arguments with his mother short and sweet. He accepts her scolding, plays it off as  _ mom just being mom,  _ and takes the role of comic relief. He relearns how to stop himself from crying, because Tiffney is a sympathetic crier and if he cried they’d both end up wailing for an hour. He quietly leaves home so early in the morning that no one else is up, works the whole day at the bakery he’s been employed at since he was sixteen, and comes back home so late that they rarely have dinner together. Whenever they  _ do _ have dinner and Momo loudly complains about how Kai should go back to the Lancer’s Guild, learn some self-defence, stop being such a  _ pansy _ , he excuses himself to his room because he’s got work early tomorrow and should get to sleep. He minimises contact with his mother as much as possible, and, by relation, the rest of his family.

But Tiffney, free-spirited (and abjectly jobless for quite a long while) as she is, always found time to pop by his workplace or find him for lunch. If Breve didn’t know better, she’d think Tiffney was tormenting him, every time she showed up and annoyed him for a whole hour or two. But, once you spend enough time with this family, you realise that’s kind of how they show affection. She laughs at his jokes and tells him, every time, that his cooking is amazing. She reminds him about the reason why he’s put up with everything for so damn long.

Tiffney joked, once, when she was still a proud member of God’s Quiver, about how the big brother should protect his little sister, but with them, the roles are switched. And, from an outsider’s perspective,  _ Tzitzimime Atenco, Warrior of Light  _ generally does a whole lot of protecting.

But Tiffney doesn’t know-- or she knows, but she never, ever said it out loud-- that Kai has been protecting her from day one. He is eight when he screams at his mother for the first time, over an infraction he can’t even remember, and he is eight when his mother slaps him across the face hard enough to leave a bruise on his cheek. He is eight when Tiffney walks into the argument in the living room, crying, running up to hug Kai’s leg and begging them not to fight, and it’s the first time she sounds so, so scared.

Kai is twenty-five when Tiffney leaves, and he is absolutely sick of complying just to keep the peace.

\-----

Momo had never seen Kaillan cry till that point.

She wondered, before, if crying is something her aunt is even capable of doing. She is a powerful woman, someone Momo used to consider a goddess. In hushed voices, others would whisper to each other about her legendary strength. How she once took down a horde of rampaging Ziz from the Coerthas Highlands herself. That the reason the Ixali leave their settlement alone is because she once killed a straggler and left his head hoisted upon a pike for all to see. She is invincible, everyone would say. The unchallenged queen of their tribe. She is Menphina’s Warden, her beauty and her ferocity embodied in one.

Kaillan loved her sister more than anything.

“Your mother, she could never hunt,” Kaillan said, eyes gazing at the moon. “She would lose her breath after a brief sprint. She barely had the strength to lift a hammer. But she was an excellent scout. It was her eyes. Those eyes...”

There was nothing remarkable about Kaillan’s eyes. They did not shine like the moon, and that’s really all that mattered. Momo can’t remember what they looked like. She can barely remember her aunt’s face in general. She doesn’t really want to remember. She was the mother to the whole tribe, with all the responsibilities that came with it. She was hard to look upon.

As Momo’s mother laid dying, Kaillan said nothing. She cleaned her sister’s bedsheet every day, brought her water when she asked for it, and remained by her side, wordlessly. When she passed, Kaillan looked on. Unmoved. A brick wall, invincible. She was the shoulder to cry on as others wept so bitterly that their tears could sway the gods themselves, if they were the type to be swayed. When Momo watched her aunt, just barely visible between the tears in her eyes, she wondered if she even had the right to cry.

It would make sense, years later. Momo’s mother was always on a downwards spiral. She was born weak, and only became weaker after she had her daughter. There was never a future for her, and everyone could see that. Her death was a tragedy, but everyone was prepared. When she passed, it was peaceful; expected. She held her daughter’s hand and whispered a song till there was no strength left in her lungs to hold any air. She was surrounded by her family. She was given all the love in the world.

Years later, when Kaillan was summoned by Momo’s screams, she was armed to the teeth. Armor covered every inch of her skin, and her lance was gripped so tightly in her hands that her knuckles turned white. She was ready to fight. She was prepared for anything.

“Behind the door,” Momo sobbed. She remembers how her aunt marched past Momo, expecting a monster, or a trespasser-- “No, no!”

Momo is twelve when she sees her aunt cry.

There was a pause, after she wrenched open the door. Her form slacked.  _ Unacceptable, _ she had chided before, to Momo and Kaillan’a both.  _ You must never relax on the battlefield. The moment you let your guard down, the enemy will strike. _ Her intuition was always lightning-fast. Reflexes unparalleled. She could stare death in the face and not even blink.

Death is so hideous, but this time, particularly so.

Momo hears her scream, sometimes. When she closes her eyes and the night creeps in, it comes back to her.

“No!” Her lance fell on the floor, a cacophony of noise-- ruffling cloth, another scream, the way it was loud enough to shake the ground beneath her-- “NO, PLEASE!”

Her ghastly wail, enough to shake Momo to the core, a final reminder that no one, absolutely no one is invincible-- “Please, please, NO!” Momo looked up, for just a moment, still afraid of what she would see, as if she hasn’t already seen the worst of it-- the most powerful woman in her world, slumped to the floor, armor scraping against the wood, useless, because nothing can shield her from this-- she’s holding him in her arms, cradled so gently, like a baby, her baby,  _ my baby.  _ “This can’t be happening. No, not my son! MY BABY!”

Momo is fifteen when she puts Kaillan to the sword for it.

When you are young and you witness an unspeakable tragedy, you try to find something to blame. It helps to rationalise things; make them easier to digest. No one wants to think that, sometimes, even when everyone is trying their fucking darnedest, it’s still not enough. There must be something to blame. There is a villain, even in fairytales.

“You know why he died.” A declaration. She comes to Kaillan’s room in the afternoon, when everyone else is asleep. But here she is, sitting up in a chair, back to Momo, staring out of the window-- “You know perfectly well.”

“And I know what you want.” Unremarkable eyes briefly meet her own. She doesn’t even look at the sword in Momo’s hand.

“Do you remember what day it is? It’s been three years since he died. Do you feel no remorse?”   
  
“Go on with it,” Kaillan says. It’s so blunt that even Momo looks shocked to hear it. “I doubt you have any interest in what I have to say.”

“You killed him!” Momo grabs the back of her chair, turning her around, looking her aunt in the eye-- “You hounded him, day and night! He felt like he could  _ never  _ leave your sight! He told me about all of this; I didn’t know what to make of it, because I was young, I was a fucking idiot, but now I do! Keeper men should leave their tribe, but you forced him to stay! You used  _ me  _ as a bargaining chip! He told me that when he’d leave, I’d get the brunt of your training, and that’s why he stayed-- he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t  _ breathe _ , he could never be good enough for you, and he put up a strong front just for me, and it  _ killed  _ him!”

“Do you think,” Kaillan hums, “there goes a single day where I don’t think about him?”

Momo kicks Kaillan in the chest. The chair skids back. She flinches, just for a moment, but stares back at her.

Momo’s eyes are pieces of the red moon. Red like an open wound, red like her beating heart, red with all the anger in the world-- “I put up with your torture for three years,” Momo seethes, “because it was the only way I could get strong enough to kill you. There’s no other fucking reason I complied for so long. Running marathons around the fucking Shroud, being screamed for every little mistake, and with every passing day I understand  _ that much  _ more about the reason why.”

Kaillan looks her up and down.

“Good form,” she comments, and not even a hint of emotions finds its way onto her face. “Energy in every part of your body, but loose enough to move at a moment’s notice. You will make a fine hunter.”

“Don’t fucking speak to me like that.”

“I hope you find,” Kaillan says, “a better reason to keep fighting.”

Momo marches up to her again, but this time, she drops her shield-- she hold her sword to Kaillan’s neck while her other hand grabs the scruff of her shirt, pulling her out of the chair. “Why won’t you fight back?” Momo grits her teeth. Her voice betrays her thoughts, the thoughts of  _ I’ve dreamed of this moment,  _ and the new, fresher anger, now that it’s going nothing like how she envisioned it to-- “Fight me, dammit! Act like you care!”

Kaillan opens her mouth.

She calls her by a forgotten name.

“--I love you,” Kaillan says, for the first time in her life. Momo doesn’t know, to this day, if Kaillan saw someone else in her face, in the way the sunlight fell on her cheekbones and made her look  _ so much  _ like her mother, like Kaillan’s sister, or if she, really did, mean it--

(She is Menphina’s Warden, her beauty and her ferocity embodied in one. Momo feared her for years, and hated her with all her heart. When Momo fell asleep, body aching because she’s been pushed so damn far once again, she whimpers for her mother but knows she’ll never come--)

Kaillan grabs Momo’s sword by the blade and plunges it into her stomach.

Momo abandons the idea of slowly torturing her to death. She pulls the sword out and slices her throat. She witnesses a hideous death.

At the end of everything, Momo turns away, grabs her things on the way out, and never comes back.

(She knows, she  _ knows _ that she did the right thing, but she always wonders, when she closes her eyes and dreams of those lifeless eyes, spilled guts, crimson sword.

She takes her aunt’s name, anyway. Because, no matter how many times she convinces herself that she is the hero in this story, the weight of her sins crawl back into her mind-- she is a monster, and she can never forget.

She doesn’t like to think on Kaillan’s words. She doesn’t like to think on what they mean. She would like to forget. She would very much like to forget. The night creeps in, and no matter how much she tries to break out of her tribal routine and sleep, Keepers are nocturnal and the moon stares down at her-- she falls in love with the idea of falling in love, and she decides to forget by waking up in someone else’s cot every morning, but they’re always gone in the daylight, till the next night, and the next, and then--)

She finds reason, again, when she runs into a Duskwight boy trying to light himself a fire in the night time. She follows the sounds of running water and comes across a creek before finding him hunched over a circle of rocks, rubbing sticks together. He looks at her, and his eyes are so bright, almost like pieces of the moon, and she walks closer very carefully, trying not to scare him. She takes a firestarter out of her rucksack and makes a spark.

“My name is Kaillan,” she says, trying to imitate her mother’s voice. “What’s yours?”

(Every fairytale needs a villain.)

\-----

Momo returns home a little later, that day. Clari is not in the front yard.

The first thing she comments on is the smell of lemon balm tea. “Fuck’s sake-- Clari, I hate that shit!” She tries not to sound panicked, even though she’s kind of spooked right now, because Clari doesn’t make that tea regularly or anything, and she wasn’t out on the porch, what’s got her so busy--? “Why does the whole house stink of it?”

When the kitchen door opens and Younette steps out, the first thing Momo thinks is, oh, she’s taller than me.

“Oh!” Younette’s chipper tone hits Momo like a sack of bricks. It’s like someone’s snapping their fingers in front of her face to try to wake her up. “Good evening!”   
  
“Good evening,” Momo replies. She sounds incredulous, and she kind of is. “And, you are...?”

Claribel walks out behind Younette, carrying a full pot of that blasted tea. “Lanlan, just in time! Look, Kaikai is back home, with Younette!”

(When he leaves, the first thing Momo does is thrash his room. She breaks every damn thing he didn’t take, throws his precious recipe books out the window, and shatters the same window too, for good measure. She sits on the floor, bloodied knuckles and torn fur, screaming at the wall. But it’s no use, telling him to never come back, because no matter how many times she tries to hate him completely, she absolutely can’t. She knows she can’t. She’s the villain in his story.

She curls up, lying on the broken pieces of glass and old toys, and she cries like a little girl.)

Momo doesn’t say anything, for a moment. Younette tenses up visibly, if only in anticipation, as she steps to the side and watches Momo a little too obviously.

Kai has her eyes. Pieces of the red moon.

He tries to buy a few seconds, when he walks into view. Pretend to not know she’s there, in a sense. He checks his nails and looks at the teapot Claribel’s placed on the table. “I’m home,” he says, still not looking up. “Sorry I didn’t write in advance. It was a last-minute decision.”

She opens her mouth, as if she’s going to say something, but instead, she seats herself on the couch and looks away. An uncharacteristic show of self-restraint which is more common than she lets on. “So,” Momo begins. “What do you want?” 

Claribel walks over, looking concerned. “Lanlan, please...”   
  
“You wouldn’t come back without wanting something,” Momo says bluntly. She crosses her legs and finally stares at Kai. “So? Say it.”

Kai bites back a sigh. “Mom. Promise me you’ll listen, alright?”

(Claribel is the one who cleans it up. She picks up the scattered books, nicking her fingers on the pieces of broken glass, hurrying herself to make sure she gets them all before the rain comes. Louys returns home, much later, but he doesn’t need much of a briefing to guess what’s happened. He helps wipe the dirt off the recipe books before slowly gathering the porcelain and splintered wood lying all over the floor of Kai’s room. An hour of destruction takes about a year of gradual work to undo-- the window is replaced first, to stop the rain from coming in. The both of them slowly fix Kai’s old toys, the ones that they know he used to love and even the ones he never glanced at. They make him a new bookshelf and put his recipes back onto the shelf.

Momo knows, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t go anywhere near Kai’s room, or so Claribel thinks. Sometimes, when Louys is out to work and it’s too early for Momo to leave the house, Claribel hears the voice of a little girl and the jingle-jangle of old toys. She doesn’t seek out the source of the sound.)

Momo closes her eyes, before bowing her head in resignation. “Okay,” she says. “I promise.”

Kai looks at Younette, who gives him a nod and a grin which shows her teeth. “Mom, Younette and I are going to get married,” he declares. Momo doesn’t react. “By Ala Mhigan tradition, we need approval from any parents in the army. You’re in the Twin Adders, which means you have to be there at the wedding, and agree with the proceedings.”

“No,” Momo says. There’s not a hint of hesitation. “I’m sorry, but no.”

Kai doesn’t look disappointed, if only because he’s not surprised to hear that. “Mom, listen to me.”   
  
“I’m listening,” Momo retorts. “Just that if you expect me to just waltz in and act jovial over that announcement after I haven’t seen for face for months, even more so if Tzitzi hadn’t summoned me to Ul’dah-- over this girl I haven’t even met face-to-face till today, you must be--”   
  
“Mom, when I say listen, I mean please listen without talking.”

Momo purses her lips. “Have it your way,” she shrugs, leaning back into the couch. Claribel stands next to her, giving Younette a worried glance.

Kai looks down at the floor, for a moment. “I’m sorry for how I left.” Not for leaving, but the manner of which he left in. “I know I’m coming here out of the blue. I know I haven’t visited in months. I know, mom. If there’s any way I can make it up to you, just say it and I will.”

Momo finally looks at Kai. “Mom, if you want me to pick up archery, I will. If you want me to join the Lancer’s Guild, I _ will.  _ I love Younette,” he says, and something about the way he says it makes Momo feel like there’s a lump in her throat. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you how much this means to me.”

Kai waits for an answer. Momo closes her eyes.

“Quit your restaraunt business,” Momo says, and Kai’s eyes widen. “Move back here.”

“I can’t--”   
  
“You just said, you’d do whatever it takes,” Momo repeats, slowly, calmly.

“I can put things on hold, but I can’t just quit.” Kai tries to find a compromise. “I can move back. That’s completely fine with me. I can move my business here, if you--”   
  
“I want you to quit it. I don’t want to hear about it ever again,” Momo says. “You turned your back on your family for that business. If you truly want to come back, then give it up entirely.”

Kai grits his teeth, trying to find a retort. “I didn’t mean to. I never turned my back, it’s my dream, mom--”   
  
“Then, no,” Momo says, getting up. “And that’s final.”

“Fuck, I’ll quit!” Kai grabs his mother’s hand, pulling her back. “I’ll quit. Okay? I’ll do it!”

Momo turns around, smiling. “I’m so happy to hear you say that. Then, I’ll do everything you need for your wedding, alright?”

There’s the sound of boots scraping against the floor.

“Kai, you don’t have to!” Younette stands up, finally raising her voice. Whatever demure image she gave off before is entirely gone now. “Fuck this! I don’t need her bloody approval if you’re gonna have to give up  _ everything  _ we’ve worked on!”

Momo glares at Younette. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re his mother, but you ain’t his mama!” Younette pulls Kai back. “There isn’t anything wrong with what you’re doing, Kai! You shouldn’t have to give it up. I’ve got no bloody clue why she ain’t  _ proud _ of you for it!”

“Younette, please--” Kai tries to interject and keep the peace, but Younette won’t have any of it. She gives Kai another tug on his arm, causing him to let go of his mother.

“Well, I suppose there was no point in blessing this marriage anyway,” Momo sighs, turning away. “As if Keeper men are made for that kind of commitment.” 

“I am!” Kai turns his attention back to his mother after such an accusation. “What are you talking about?!”

“I’m just warning your fiancée,” Momo hisses, “that you’ve got a history of turning your back on people who love you to chase the flavor of the month. Keeper men are all the same. It’s just instinct, I suppose.”   
  
Younette backs up, trying to regain her composure. “I don’t believe that,” she says calmly. “Or are all Keeper women fucking whores like you, too?” --and there it goes, calmness thrown to the wind.

“Like an Ala Mhigan bitch has any right to call  _ me _ a whore,” Momo lashes back. It’s a good thing she left her sword and shield at the entrance, because if she could get her hands on Younette right now-- “I’m not fucking stupid, I’m just not saying anything because my son’s head-over-heels for you. Not hard to see why, since you’re probably used to fucking a whole platoon to get over the border, you--”   
  
Claribel slaps Momo across the face.

There’s just silence, for a moment. Younette steps back in shock, while Kai wordlessly grabs Claribel’s hands to stop her from doing it again. Momo holds her cheek, and the first thing that comes to her is the unfathomable, seething rage, rushing from her chest down to her hands and all over her head, but she-- looks back up at Claribel, and it all dies at once.

The Elezen takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what to say to you.” It’s bitingly cold. “How could you be so selfish?”   
  
Momo gasps for air. “Clari, you don’t understand,” she says, grasping for an answer. “I gave up everything for him, and he--”

“He reaches out to you with what should be the best news you’ve ever heard in your life,” Claribel says, “and you use it as a chance to take him back under your control. I understand perfectly well.”

Kai tightens his grip. “Mama, it’s okay. I-- I’m used to this. You don’t have to be angry.”

Claribel looks at Kai, but can’t meet him the eye. “I’m so sorry I even let you get used to this.”

She pries Kai’s fingers off her arm. She looks back at Momo, still clutching her cheek, staring up at her with wide eyes, absolute disbelief.

“When he reached out to you again, it was a chance.” Claribel stands upright, and god, when did she become taller than her--? “To put the past aside and accept him back into your life. He gave you a chance to be part of it again. But give you an inch and you always try to take a mile, isn’t that right? You think I don’t know how difficult it is to raise a child, Lanlan? You think I don’t want Tiffney to move back? Do you think a single day passes by where I don’t think about her and I don’t wish I could just keep her here?”

(“You could’ve died!” Claribel screamed at Tiffney, when she returned home after weeks in the Tam-Tara Deepcroft, and here she was, packing her bags again, ready to run away-- “I thought you were dead!”   
  
“You’re going to have to get used to that feeling,” Tiffney retorted, staring right back at her mother. The door shuts behind her like an earthquake.)

“Do you think I just sit by and let you do whatever you want with Kai?” Claribel shakes her head. “I’m always imagining myself in your place. Daydreaming about what I’d do if I could take over your body, Lanlan. But I can’t, and I never say anything because you-- you were  _ my  _ mother, and how could I ever say anything against you?  _ Gods,  _ you don’t understand, it’s so difficult to even face you like this-- that’s why I’m always cleaning up behind you, silently fixing his toys when you break them, spoiling him behind your back and telling you I just can’t help it-- Lanlan, look at me. Lanlan!”

Momo wails.

Claribel steps back in surprise as Momo chokes out a sob, and she looks back up. She looks at Claribel, and the Elezen can’t see clearly, but she knows her friend is crying-- Claribel steps closer, putting her face inches away from Momo’s and reaching out to grab her shoulder. But Momo pulls away, instantly breaking into a run, and in seconds she’s out the door and leaves the gate ajar, not even bothering to put on her shoes.

“Lanlan!” Claribel makes it towards the door, shouting out onto the street: “Don’t run away from this!  _ Kaillan!” _

\-----

“Here. I’ll tell you a secret,” Kaillan’a says. He sits next to Momo the point up to the waning moon. “During the First Umbral Moon, when the moon is full and the world is under Menphina’s watch, your mother comes to visit you.”

Momo stares at him, partly in surprise and partly in disbelief. “I’m not dumb,” she retorts. “The dead can’t visit us.” 

“That’s what people say, because they’re not allowed to be seen,” Kaillan’a explains. “But I have proof, okay?” 

He gets up, reaching into his bag. He pulls out a shining rock, placing it in Momo’s hands. “It’s a piece of a moon.”   
  
“Really?” Momo turns it over, inspecting every inch of it. “It’s a piece of the moon...?”   
  
“Definitely. I know this for sure,” he says, in that tone which makes Momo hang onto every word. “I found this next to your pillow, during the full First Umbral Moon last year. Your window was ajar while you were out playing, so I was afraid someone must’ve broken into your room. But when I went in to check, I found everything tidied neatly, and this moon rock.

  
Momo holds the ore tight. “So... my mummy comes down to visit?”   
  
“Yes,” Kaillan’a reassures. “But she can only watch you from a distance. There’s one way for her to get close to you, though.”   
  
Kaillan’a pulls out a tattered, old book. A compedium of fairytales, scrawled in decades-old ink. “A story here reads that, if you sleep on the night of the full moon, those you love who have passed on will visit you by your bedside.”   
  
He opens the book, pointing to the exact lines. Momo shakes her head. “That’s... just a fairytale.”

“Like my mother says: every rumor has a grain of truth to it.” Kaillan’a laughs, before closing the book.

His eyes are pieces of the moon.

“Keep the rock. It’s yours.” While Momo blinks in surprise, Kaillan’s voice rings through the settlement, calling for her son. “Oh, it’s time for me to go for training. I’ll see you later, alright? And keep an eye on the calender-- the next full First Umbral Moon in only in two weeks!”

He dashes off, grabbing his armor as he goes. Momo looks back at the rock.

“I hope,” she whispers, “you really do come to visit me, mummy.”

\-----

“Lulu! Lulu, by Nophica, I can’t find her-- have you seen Lanlan anywhere?!”

Louys isn’t used to being ambushed in a panic the moment he gets home. Nor is he used to seeing the gate already open, Kai running up and down the street, or have a strange Highlander girl greet him with a quick  _ good evenin’  _ before chasing after Kai. “I told her off about how she treated Kai,” Claribel explains. “She ran out of the house, and I thought she’d come back after cooling off. But it’s been nearly an hour, and she’s not responding to her linkpearl, or even took her shoes with her-- Kai and Younette just left to look and ask around.”

“I didn’t see her while I was walking home,” Louys admits. “Nor did I hear anyone mentioning seeing her.”   
  
“--Ma!” Kai runs down the street, shouting as he does. “The neighbours saw her! They said she ran straight into the Black Shroud through the Blue Badger gate. The guards tried to stop her, but she just rushed through.”   
  
“Into the Shroud?” Claribel shakes her head, rubbing her forehead in worry. “Gods, I didn’t think... I slapped her, Lulu. She was out of line, but I shouldn’t have, I-- she looked up at me and she seemed so scared. Like a little girl.”

She takes a deep breath. “Lulu, do you think...? She wouldn’t do anything rash, would she?”   
  
“I believe I know where she might’ve went,” Louys says, without answering his wife’s question. “I’ll go find her.”

\-----

Kaillan is thirty-eight when she sees her son commit an unspeakable evil.

There was a full moon, that night. She remembers this, because wild animals are awake and prowling on such a bright night, and it would do no good to lose focus. She had a hunt to oversee, but she cancelled it on a sudden, dreadful thought. She’d always known that mother’s intuition is very, very real and not to be trifled with, but it still doesn’t explain why she dropped her spear and walked to her niece’s room--

Perhaps she always knew, in the back of her mind, what kind of person her son was. He was diligent in his studies, both in combat and outside of it. Literacy was rare, but not at all unheard of, especially in a boy who could charm the leaves off a Treant. He had friends-- so many of them, outside the family and in it. Most Keepers trust women with the more dangerous activities, but he was never one to shy away from the face of adventure, and Kaillan was never one to deny him training. He is a wanderer, as male Keepers are wont to be, and Kaillan doesn’t truly expect him to stay forever-- but she welcomed his return at dawn every morning, regardless.

He was always Momo’s big brother. It’s a welcome arrangement, seeing how he always wanted a sibling, and Kaillan’s sister was glad to see someone so protective of her daughter. Kaillan doesn’t know how her sister wouldn’t have noticed, because she was always the more perceptive of the two of them-- but maybe it’s because he was still innocent, back then. Kaillan doesn’t know when he stopped being so.

She shouldn’t be the judge of that, anyway. As cold as she tries to be, she is still a mother. She looks upon Kaillan’a, with his wondrously big eyes and thinks,  _ my baby. _ He tried to teach her how to read, once, and though he never quite succeeded, she remembers the immense pride welling up in her chest, knowing he would accomplish things she never could. After training, she sometimes sees him sitting by the lakeside, reading to Momo off a tattered old book, and that’s all her memory tries to cling to. The illusion of peacefulness and tranquility, a world where nothing has gone wrong.

But everyone has to wake up.

She doesn’t ever notice anything. Or maybe she did, and never lingered on it, never dared entertain such a terrible thought till it was presented to her, on a silver plate, under the full moon--

Kaillan remembers asking why Kaillan’a hasn’t left home yet, like all the other boys his age. All his childhood friends, scattered to the wind. “Someone has to take care of her, ma, and you’re so busy that I can’t trust you with it. Not in good conscience to my aunt.” He laughs, and she accepts that answer, because why wouldn’t she?

Why would she think--

\--trying to enter the room, she realizes the door is locked but Momo never locks her door, the jangle of the hinge as she panics and breaks it open--

\--silence, her eyes barely believing what they’re seeing, the full moon illuminates the room and Momo’s rosy cheeks, eyes closed, she’s sleeping--

\--he looks up, her son, eyes wide, pieces of the full moon, his naked back facing her, he had no time to escape by the time she’s broken in the door, he is--

\--Momo’s clothes are to her side, neatly folded, the window is ajar, the full moon is watching, the full moon is watching, by Menphina--

\--he--

\--I--

\--“How long?” The words leave Kaillan’s mouth with the full horror of a bystander, mixed with the supreme anger of a mother. “How long has this been going on?!”

Kaillan’a is sixteen when his mother decides he will never leave her sight, ever again.

Momo doesn’t remember a thing. It’s a blessing far more than it is a curse, and Kaillan intends to keep it that way. She was dead to the world, that night-- he’d given her a sleeping potion to make sure she slept through the full moon. “She took it willingly,” Kaillan’a said, as if that made anything better.

The first thing she does is lock him in his room, guards and all, till she figures out what to do. But that doesn’t work, because Momo asks after him every day, and he knows it. Momo cries and Kaillan can’t tell her why she shouldn’t see Kaillan’a ever again. Soon enough, everyone knows of it-- and everyone looks upon Momo with the same eyes of pity they had when her mother passed, because this is another piece of innocence stolen away from her by someone she thought she should love. When she lets Kaillan’a out of confinement, the uproar is unimaginable.

“Bias is clouding your judgment.” “The poor girl!” “What the hell do you think you’re doing, commanding us to  _ not _ rip this lowlife to shreds?” But Kaillan unlocks the door, lets Kaillan’a return to Momo, and she runs up with a look of absolute joy on her face as she leaps into Kaillan’a’s arms and, god, she thought she was prepared to face any kind of monster in the world, but--

One of her friends pull her aside, whispering into her ear as they stare at Momo and Kaillan’a from the corner of their eyes. “But there is no reason to ever be truthful, no reason to let her know the truth. We always lie until we can’t keep it up anymore, huh? That’s always been the way. Every fucking time, goddammit,  _ Kaillan, please--” _

“If there has to be a villain in this story,” Kaillan replies, “then it will be I.”

Perhaps her son was no longer bound by chains, but he was still bound by shackles of a different kind. She has sentries watching him, every hour of every night. He has to come along for every hunt; he no longer has a say. When Momo is not watching, the others spit at the ground he walks upon. He tries to run away, but never succeeds, because Kaillan never, ever lets her son out of her sight. Momo comes up to her, so often, asking to come along for training with him, asking for her to take it easy on her son; she complies with the former but never the latter, and it always gives her such a sick feeling, when she sees her son patting Momo on the head, a job well-done for today--

On the night she let her guard down, she had a nightmare. The worst nightmare of her life.

She dreams of her son, all the time. Dreams of pervasive sadness, dreams which remind her she is still his mother. But this dream? She stares up at a door, unable to move, and it begins shaking; it opens, and she’s terrified, so absolutely terrified because she senses hatred, anger, the worst possible evilness, and the door opens and it’s her son, it’s her baby.

She realizes she’s dreaming from Momo’s point of view.

Kaillan wishes her son had never been born, because there was no remembering what he was outside of what he had become. She wakes up, in cold sweat, staring at the ceiling and realizes, gods, that’s not a normal thing to think. But it’s true. There’s no question. There is only one conclusion.

  
It’s supposed to be her turn, to keep watch on him today. She forgets. She puts on her armor, slowly; she looks out the window and muses on her sister. She wonders if her sister will ever forgive her.

Momo’s scream wakes her up.

She expects what she thinks is the worst, but in the end, she wasn’t truly prepared for it. No manner of beast could shake her to the core and leave her on her knees like this. She cradles her dead son and she wishes he’d never been born, wishes he’d never died, wishes for her baby back,  _ my baby-- _

She continues playing the villain.

There is not a single day where she goes easy on Momo. She sees her innocence fade from eyes. She sees the girl’s precociousness become replaced with a stewing, unfathomable hatred, red like blood, piercing like her beating heart, Kaillan  _ knows.  _ She trains Momo anyway, puts her all into equipping Momo with every skill she needs to kill her. Even when Momo stops smiling and never addresses Kaillan in the morning aside from a tired glare, she looks down at the girl and can only ever see her sister looking back at her.

She made it doubly sure that there would be no person in the entire Shroud who Momo couldn’t snap into two pieces. There would be not one soul who could bring Momo down to her knees, fill her terror and treat her with the worst possible evilness, the cruelty she has survived and not even remembered. Every day is mechanical, routine, and she fills every second of consciousness with action, hunting, training, running, because otherwise, she’d have time to sit down and think and she, doesn’t, want to. She teaches Momo to be just like her, to be so strong that everything is under your control, that people can look at you with malice but you don’t even have to care--

\--when Momo comes to kill her, she--

\--she didn’t expect it to end like this, but she welcomes it, all the same. She doesn’t know it’s been three years since his death. Anniverseries are insignificant when not a single hour goes by without having her son’s face cross her mind.

She wants to play the villain. She sees the blade come up to the throat, and it all slips from her hands, all at once.

“--I love you.”

She wonders if death was this painful for him, too.

\-----

The first time Tiffney dies, she thinks no one notices.

She comes home before departing for Doma. She writes in advance, as with all her visits, and is late in keeping up with her promised date, as with all her visits. But she comes home anyway, a big grin plastered all over her face and no new (physical) scars over her body. Breve has taken good care of her. That much, Momo is thankful for.

She can only stay for a week, but they make it count. Louys brings her fishing, though she fails to catch anything other than a very angry fighting fish. Claribel fills her up with literally every kind of food she’s learnt how to cook, and when Breve arrives in Gridania a day later, she’s subject to the same treatment. Momo takes long walks in the Shroud with her, interrogating Tiffney about her companions, asking for drawings of her dashing caster friend with piercing blue eyes before laughing...

It’s on the night before Tiffney leaves that Claribel says something. “I had a dream,” she hums, and Tiffney turns her head. She’s lying all over the couch while Claribel is sipping at her tea, Momo sweeping the floor nearby. Breve is in her room, fast asleep. “I had a dream where you died.”   
  
“Huh?” Tiffney shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. I definitely won’t die! Not with Breve watching my back, anyway.”

Claribel tries to laugh, but for some reason, it doesn’t come to her lips. “I know,” she sighs. “But... tell me. Are there times where you came close?”   
  
Silence. The answer is obvious, but she needs to hear it from Tiffney’s lips.

“Mom...” Tiffney looks away. “Well, I don’t like to lie.”

Tiffney gets up. “Aunt Momo saved my life once.”   
  
Momo turns around. “Haaah?”   
  
“Even though I don’t like to talk about it,” Tiffney says, and in an instant, Momo knows exactly what she’s refering to. “Hell, I’d say everyone’s saved my life at least once. Breve, maybe a few dozen times?”

“Tiffney,” Claribel finally asks, “did you die?”   
  
“...I’m here now, mom.” It’s an answer in itself. Tiffney gets up and sits by her mom’s side. “I’m alive. See? Breathing, heart beating, everything.”

She tells Momo the whole story when she’s at the port in Limsa, just about ready to disappear into the sea’s wake for months on end. “I’m telling you this because I think my mom can tell,” Tiffney says, and Momo has that way of knowing when to shut up because Tiffney’s being serious. “I don’t know how-- fucking mother’s intuition or something with aether, I guess-- but I did die once.”

(Estinien’s scream. The rage of Nidhogg. Tzitzi tries to pull the Eye away from him but it’s too late, he stabs her in the gut and the whole Allagan facility shakes as it begins to crumble-- Breve sees Tzitzi from the corner of her eye as everyone makes it out but her, and it looks like she’s on fire.

Midgardsormr turns back, flying through the broken, falling rubble as it descends through the endless depths of Azys Lla. He feels something grabbing at his wing, and flies out of the chaos with an extra Elezen barely holding onto his back. “Nice timing,” Tzitzi gasps, clinging onto Midgardsormr for dear life with one hand and her greatsword in another. “Breve, my guts are falling out. Help?”

Breve throws her a Benediction and pulls her up onto Midgardsormr’s back before slapping her for being so reckless. She laughs, with nothing but the blood on her face to tell that anything terrible just happened to her. At home, Claribel wakes up from a terrible dream of crushed bones and a fading heartbeat-- a scream,  _ you need me, you need me, goddammit!) _

“I’m telling you this because, when I do that, there’s this... thing in my head,” Tiffney tries to explain. “Something that wants to take over and drive me crazy.”   
  
“This is insane,” Momo says. “You died but you just-- came back? You’re a ‘waking dead’?”

“It’s not something I wanna do frequently, is all I’m saying,” Tiffney continues. “But sometimes, someone has to take the fall, and I’m the best person to do it. While it keeps my physical body alive, one day, I think I might...”   
  
Tiffney shrugs, trying to find the words for it. She breaks eye contact and leaves Momo glaring at her. “Tiffney, I can’t believe this,” Momo huffs. “You’re saying you can die... temporarily?”   
  
“It keeps my physical aether in my body. Like I said, I really don’t understand how it works--”

“Then why the hell are you using it?!”   
  
“Because I’m a Warrior of Light,” Tiffney says, and it’s firm. Confident in the worst sort of way. “And sometimes, living isn’t an option anymore. Not when there’s the fate of the whole realm and everything on your fucking shoulders, okay?”   
  
Momo doesn’t have anything to say to that.

“...I’m sorry,” Tiffney sighs. “Just listen, okay? In the worst case scenario, I might live, physically... but I don’t think I’ll come back the same. Even now, I can hear it more clearly than before-- this fucking  _ thing,  _ whispering at the back of my head. If it gets too loud, it might block out everything else.”   
  
“You’ll lose your mind,” Momo replies. “Is that what you mean?”   
  
“In that case,” Tiffney says, “if I ever come back and I’m not the same person anymore, I want you to tell everyone that I died.”

Death is so hideous, but maybe sometimes, it’s not even the worst thing.

Momo hasn’t received a retainer call in months. It’s expected, because it’s not like Tiffney can find any retainer bells in the middle of the ocean. There aren’t any letters to be read, because if she had time to write back, it would take months more to even reach home, if they aren’t lost during the journey. Before this, Momo would appreciate every single time Tiffney summoned her-- even when she complained about the cold, or the heat, or  _ what in the Twelve’s name are you fucking wearing Tiffney,  _ she enjoys seeing her face. Everyone likes the reminder that their loved one is alive and breathing. They’re short, each time, but the relief they provide is tremendous.

Claribel and Louys would want to hear every word of what Momo had to say about each retainer call. Right down to what Momo got for her on her ventures and Tiffney’s terrible fashion sense. It might also be because Momo’s always on cloud nine every time she returns. Not just because Tiffney is their dear daughter, though that’s a large part of it. Being the retainer to a Warrior of Light, whether or not they’ll always be your big baby in your eyes-- it would fill anyone with a sense of purpose. Something to shine a light in the darkness, a reason to say that, hey, it’s a good thing I’m alive, still.

(“She didn’t have much to say,” Momo lies, trying not to picture Tiffney’s tear-stained cheeks as Momo talks her out of literally killing herself and bringing the rest of Ishgard down with her. “Really busy. A lot of political bullshit. Not her forte, you know? Troubling times.”)

One night, Claribel wakes up screaming.

Momo bursts right into her room, sword already in her hands, before Claribel clings onto Louys and gasps her Tiffney’s name. “She died,” Claribel wails, before the both of them desperately try to tell her that she wouldn’t, she couldn’t, there’s no way she would, their daughter is invincible-- “She died, I felt it!”

She hasn’t received a retainer call in months. She knows there’s a chance the next one will never come.

So, what’s the point of staying alive, anyway?

\-----

“Kaillan.” 

The way Momo’s ears twitch up tells Louys that she’s heard him, even if she pretends not to. “It’s me.” She’s sitting on the grass, back facing him, staring over the creek in front of her.

He walks through the overgrowth, making his way to Momo’s side. “Everyone’s waiting for you back home.”

“Lulu, she hates me, doesn’t she?”

“No.” He says that quietly but firmly, sitting by Momo’s side. She turns away from him, but it’s obvious she’s been crying. “She doesn’t hate you.”

The moon is so beautiful tonight.

Louys knows they should be rushing home. The Black Shroud isn’t the place you want to be in the middle of the night. But they’ve survived worse together. “Kai and Claribel are worried. Let’s go home.”

“As if,” Momo gasps, shaking her head. “The only thing my son will ever want to do for me is bury my bloody corpse.”

“That’s not true,” Louys states, as if there was no doubt.

“He’s thrown me away, and Claribel is on his side.” Momo’s fingers dig into the dirt, uprooting the weeds. “No one wants me. I’ll just go. I’ll--”

“Kaillan.”   
  
“--I know! I fucking know, Louys!” Momo gets up onto her feet. Louys grabs her by the arm, and she tries to push him away. “Just let me  _ go! _ God, I don’t even need anyone! I’ve survived on my own for years and I’ll do it again! Don’t fucking touch me!”   
  
“Kaillan.”

She kicks him in the calf and tries to twist his hand, but he doesn’t let go. “I don’t need you! I don’t need help! Just let me go!”   
  
“Kaillan, just because we’re not happy with you doesn’t mean we want you gone.” 

_ “Leave!” _

She struggles for what seems like hours. She’s the stronger one of the two, she knows this-- but she can’t bring herself to use her full strength against Louys, and he’d rather sleep out in the dirt than return empty-handed. She steps on his toes, thrashes against his iron grip, and even sends a punch right to his jaw-- he stands firm, ignoring the stinging pain in his face and the aching in his muscles. Momo keeps struggling, desperately beating Louys’ arm till she’s sweating all over and gasping for air--

She slumps to the ground, eventually. He slowly lowers himself to the ground, making sure she’s not going to collapse from exhaustion.

Momo looks up.

The moon is so beautiful tonight.

“I...” Momo breathes. Louys’ eyes are so bright. They’re never as big as a Keeper’s, but Momo can pretend. “I don’t want them to get married.”

Kai’s been writing back about Younette for months. They know all about her. How she’s an Ala Mhigan refugee, how she works as an armorer, how he’s in love with her despite everything his greater judgment is telling him and how the incident at Baelsar’s Wall has strengthened her resolve to fight. “I know exactly why he’s so desperate to get married,” Momo says, looking at the ground. “Why he’d rush over here to find me on a moment’s notice. The moment Tiffney frees Doma and the armies begin to march into Ala Mhigo, she’s going to join them. And he’ll follow her there. You know? I want him to stay here.”

Louys nods. “It’s natural. Even if you know that’s what he wants, you wouldn’t want him to follow her into danger. That’s a mother’s love.”   
  
“I don’t love him.”

Louys blinks, almost like he’s taken aback, but she laughs before he can say anything. “Haha, I-- gods, what am I saying?” Momo shakes her head. “Can you hate someone but still want to protect them? I don’t know-- I’m nothing like my mother. I’m just like my aunt. My mother, she...”   
  
Momo looks back up at the sky. “She had such big, round eyes. Like the moon. And my eyes, like Menphina’s bastard hound, the red moon that came crashing down... but she always said they were beautiful. She always wanted me to be happy.”   
  
Silence. “Like the moon... Lulu,” Momo gasps, “when will she come to visit me?”   
  
“...Tiffney?”   
  
“No, mummy!” Momo lets out a wail, and suddenly, she’s bursting into tears, crying like a little girl. “My mummy! Kaillan’a said that she’d visit! When will she visit me?”

“I--” Louys doesn’t know what to do, just takes Momo’s hands and lifts her off the ground as she continues to cry. “Soon. She’ll come soon.”   
  
“I want my mummy!” Momo barely stumbles onto her feet, the tears obscuring her vision. “Mummy! I want to go home!”

“It’s okay,” Louys reassures, supporting Momo before slowly beginning to walk. “It’s okay. We’re going home.”   
  
“I wanna go home!” Momo gasps for air through her tears. “I want my mummy, I... I...”

\-----

She’s asleep, when Louys arrives at the cottage doorstep. Claribel tucks Momo into bed and asks, “Where did you find her?”   
  
“Where she found me,” Louys answers, and that’s good enough for Claribel.

Claribel looks at Momo’s sleeping face. She lets out a sigh, soft enough to not wake her up but loud enough to feel like she’s carrying the world on her shoulders. “Remember when we used to be scared of her? Like she ruled the whole world.” A beat. “She looks like a little girl now.”

\-----

And nothing is resolved, but that’s fine; that’s life. 

“For those we have lost. For those we can yet save.” Tiffney turns to Momo with a smile, as the ship raises anchor and begins on its journey to Kugane. “And I’ve saved all types of hopeless people. So even if shit goes to hell, everything’s gonna be okay if you just stay alive, Aunt Momo!”

\-----

When Tiffney calls Momo to Kugane, the first thing she does when her feet find the ground and her eyes find Tiffney is to hug her.

“Huh?” Tiffney blinks, staring at Momo blankly for a while. “Aunt Momo?”   
  
“You have no idea,” Momo wails, “how fucking worried everyone has been!” 

Akhira’a shoots Tiffney a sympathetic glance over his shoulder, before going back to his own business. Tiffney continues to stare, before her brain finally catches up and she pets Momo on the head. “Sorry... I guess my letters back home must’ve gotten lost? Breve and I are alright. Don’t worry about it.”   
  
Momo pulls away, eyes puffy and nose running. These kind of theatrics aren’t too out of the world for her, so Tiffney doesn’t suspect anything much has happened recently. “Would it kill you to call me more often?! And maybe not in the middle of the bloody evening, too-- I was just having tea with your mother!”   
  
“Sorry, sorry--” Tiffney’s cut off by a letter being thrust into her hands. “What’s this? ...A wedding invitation? One for Breve, too?! Nophica’s fucking teats, it’s--”   
  
“I don’t care what country you need to liberate or what princess you need to save from whatever tower,” Momo huffs. “You are definitely coming for Kai’s wedding. Understood?”   
  
“Oh my god!” A huge grin spreads over Tiffney’s face. “Kaikai’s getting married?! Oh, it’s to the girl I saw him with back in Ul’dah-- I can’t believe it!”

“Write down the date! Write it everywhere! I don’t care if you’re a Warrior of Light. I’ll beat the snot out of you if you forget,” Momo warns. “Plus, I’m going to be looking fabulous that night. It’s an Ala Mhigan wedding, which means the newlyweds’ parents are going to be the official authority at that wedding. And that’s yours truly, right here!”   
  
Tiffney’s eyes scan the invitation, every word written out in a beautiful cursive. “...Wait, wedding spar?” Her eyes practically bulge out of her skull. “I have to see this. This sounds amazing. Can I put down bets on who wins?”   
  
“Tzitzi, please!”   
  
“Can I?”   
  
“...Yes, but--”   
  
Tiffney lets out a raucous laugh, attracting several looks. “Oh my god. Aunt Momo, you have to be so happy-- Younette looks all nice and sweet, but she fights like a beast. She’s just like you, actually.”   
  
“Who are you to say that?!” Momo feels a vein in her forehead pop. “I’m ten times better!”   
  
“Sure, sure,” Tiffney waves off. She folds up the invitation before keeping it, very carefully, in her pocket. “Aunt Momo, come closer. I called you here for a reason.”   
  
“What?” Momo steps closer. “Do you even have ventures anymore? You know I still won’t do work for free--”

Tiffney gets down on one knee and hugs Momo.

It’s strange. It’s so easy to hold back tears when you’re sad, but it’s so much more difficult when you’re happy. “Thank you,” she says, and Momo doesn’t want to know what kind of terrible things have happened to Tiffney these past few months, because those two words don’t come from her lips easily-- “For everything. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. I love you.”

Tiffney lets go.

Momo wipes away her tears, before taking a deep breath. She looks back up-- the way the moonlight falls onto Tiffney’s hair, the bright streets of Kugane, the smell of a foreign land-- gods, when did she grow up? When did she grow old?

“Come back home soon, okay, Tiffney?” She almost expects Tiffney to tell her off for using that name, but instead, the Elezen just gives her a faint smile. “You know, I’m not a young woman anymore. Sometimes, it’s just hard to think-- you two are growing up so fast while we’re growing old. But when we used to go on adventures together, I always felt like a little girl again. When you’re out saving the world, don’t forget about old Aunt Lanlan, alright?”   
  
“I won’t,” Tiffney reassures. “I’ll never forget you.”

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes, when I was your age-- and past that, too,” Momo says, barely managing to hold it together. “I’d tell you not to make the same ones, but children will be children, right? I won’t lie, it was fucking difficult, getting this far. Sometimes, you just want everything to end, and burn it all to the ground. You understand, right? You understood far too early.” 

Momo takes a deep breath. “I regret a lot of things, but I don’t regret my family. It’s so hard to be a good person, sometimes, but you make it look so easy. I’m so proud of you. Please come back home one day, Tiffney. But even if you don’t-- even if you decide you never want to-- we’ll always be here, waiting for you.”

“Fuck, I wasn’t prepared for this,” Tiffney says, and she turns away to cover her eyes. “Leave before I end up crying in the middle of a busy street. Goddammit.”

“You’d think I’d let you get away with making me cry and not doing the same to you?!” Momo huffs. “I’ll see you at the wedding, Tiffney! And make sure Breve comes, too, I haven’t seen her in so long!”   
  
“I will-- now get out of here, you old hag, my time at the bell is almost up and there’s a line behind me!” Tiffney’s words bring a laugh out of Momo’s mouth, bellowing out her throat, up her chest and leaving her entire body feeling airy-- she stumbles back onto Gridanian soil as she’s teleported back to the front lawn, and everyone’s looking at her expectantly.

“You’re back!” Claribel reaches out and grabs Momo’s arm. “How is she?!”   
  
“You gave the invitations, right?” Younette asks. “You promised!”   
  
“Mom, did you remember to ask if she still likes fish?” Kai’s eyes are sparkling.

“...Welcome back,” Louys says, and Momo sees the faint hint of a smile on his face.

Momo sits down on the chair next to Claribel. She drinks a whole cup of lemongrass tea poured out for her, without a single complaint.

“Gods, you know...” Momo stares up at the sky. “The moon is so beautiful tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> sorry.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/TZITZIMEME).


End file.
